


Probe away!

by nordan



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Joker really isn't paid enough, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect), The Ends Justify The Means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nordan/pseuds/nordan
Summary: Fuel is expensive. Like, really expensive. And Shepard has had her eyes on that Black Widow sniper rifle for some time...Set during Mass Effect 3; another recon mission across systems.
Kudos: 5





	Probe away!

Quick steps on the bridge; before the door to the cockpit had even opened, he knew it was the Commander. Not only because he could tell from the rhythm of her steps, but also because few others simply barged in on him as she did. Captain of the ship, yeah, but it wouldn't hurt if she had a little respect for his delicate tasks.  
She rarely lacked purpose or determination, that much was sure; but as she grabbed the back of his chair and leaned forward to swipe at his star charts, in _his_ cockpit, he had to steel himself not to slap her hand away. "Joker", she near-conspiratorially, hastily whispered, too close to his ear. "Change of mind. Change of course, I mean."  
"What, found another race of murderous synthetics to get friendly with?", he quipped, knuckles whitening as her clumsy finger stabbed to hard at his screen. She glanced at him blankly for a moment, then turned her eyes back to the charts, almost childishly excited.  
"No, Joker. Divert course to - here."  
"Apien Crest? What, Commander, one spiky lizard bird not enough for you?"  
"We're not doing a pickup. I found something else. Divert course, Joker."  
Joker drew in breath through his teeth, but made no further objection. "Sure thing, Commander. Be there in - three hours, forty-two minutes."  
\-----------

"Commander", said EDI's crisp voice in her speakers, "Jeff has expressed worry concerning the close vincinity of reapers in this area--" when suddenly Joker's own voice broke in. "You said no murderous synthetics, Commander! It's crawling with them out there!  
"Stay on course, Flight Lieutenant", she snapped. "We have cloaking devices for a reason; use them. And keep scanning."  
There was a noise, as if he had banged his fist on the control panel, but then an affirmative murmur; she let it slide, and took the elevator down to the hangar. She needed to talk to Cortez and make sure the hangar was clear to receive a certain - something.  
\-----------  
"Rocks and rubble! I told you, the next planet is lightyears away!"  
"Almost there, Joker! I've killed a thresher maw and a reaper on foot, this won't be a problem! Cortez, get me my rubble right now!"  
"I can see the fucker from here! Coming straight at us! This shit you're picking up better be a reaper genophage or three dozen Justicars! And they better wear what Samara did!"  
Ignoring Joker, Shepard turned instead to the terrified-looking Lieutenant Cortez. "You open that airlock and fetch me that rubble, or I won't hesitate one moment to airlock the Kodiak straight at the next reaper."  
EDI's voice cut through again. "Reaper forces advancing, Commander. Approximately two minutes, thirty-eight seconds from engagement."  
The Lieutenant's eyes flicked to Shepard again, but he was a soldier through and through. Opening the airlock, and slowly but surely maneuvering the controls; and then the sweet sound of metal screeching against the floor as her prize landed safely aboard. "Yes!", she hissed, clasping Cortez' shoulder in celebration, and in her best impression of a dignified jog, made her way to enter the hangar again. "... twenty-four seconds from engagement, Commander", said EDI, and Shepard absentmindedly ordered a jump to FTL speed to evade the synthetic bug.  
\------------  
Crisis averted, the Normandy back on a safer course, Cortez and Vega had made their way back into the hangar; though both lingered somewhat hesitantly near the elevator as the Commander worked the scrap tub of metal they had picked up. Sleeves rolled up, grease up to her elbows, but looking practically triumphant, she turned suddenly to them. "James", she breathed. "Steve! Joker! There's over four hundred units of fuel in this! For free!"


End file.
